


Baking traditions

by ardvari



Series: traditions [2]
Category: CSI: Crime Scene Investigation
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-17
Updated: 2017-04-17
Packaged: 2018-10-20 06:56:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 661
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10657290
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ardvari/pseuds/ardvari
Summary: It was Sofia who found the small notebook as she unpacked the boxes. She hadn’t seen it in years, a forgotten memento that had slipped in with her text books, untouched since she got out of college, though they held too many memories to be thrown away.





	Baking traditions

It was Sofia who found the small notebook as she unpacked the boxes. She hadn’t seen it in years, a forgotten memento that had slipped in with her text books, untouched since she got out of college, though they held too many memories to be thrown away. 

She wiped at the silky cover, smiling at the flour that still clung to it. The notebook was tied with a ribbon and she carefully pulled at it until it opened, surprised at how sturdy the ribbon still was. The pages were full of flour, stained with chocolate and spices, and she read through the cookie and cake recipes her grandmother had written down in her neat, ancient handwriting. With curved S’s, slanting C’s, the elaborate script seemed older than it was. 

She read through the recipes before they went to bed for the next few nights, sometimes reading out loud because the cookies just sounded too tempting to keep them to herself. Sara, on her side, listened intently.

Two weeks before Christmas, bundled up against the wintry desert air, they shopped for ingredients. Cinnamon and cloves and oranges and chocolate, tons of chocolate. Flour and corn starch, a bottle of red wine for good measure. Their cart was full of sinfully good things as they left, stuffing the car, and both of them thought they could already smell the cinnamon sticks and the cloves. 

They unpacked at home and mixed the spices for mulled wine, filling a pot with the wine and adding some black tea, the linen bag with the spices, and honey until it tasted delicious. With the help of the wine making this first baking experience together not quite so scary, since neither of them could really cook or bake, they propped the notebook against the sugar container and studied it, hips and shoulders touching as they leaned against each other. 

“Flour. It all starts with flour,” Sara stated.

“Flour is the big bang in the evolution of the cookie,” Sofia quipped, earning a giggle.

“Scientific, Curtis. I like that in a woman.”

They teased back and forth as they mixed flour and corn starch and carefully peeled the skin off an orange in tiny strips. The air was full of fragrances and they were proud when their first sheet of cookies went into the oven.

Sofia put on Christmas music and they hummed along as they prepared the next type of cookies. More chocolate, of course, neither of them could resist and they mixed and rolled and squeezed the dough through a hole at the bottom of a Zip Loc Bag. They made hearts and L’s and O’s and V’s and E’s. They spelled their names and made little dots, stars, and squiggly lines until the sheet was covered in cookies.

Sara drew her finger along the side of the empty bowl, where some of the dough still clung. With a slightly wicked grin, she held it out to Sofia, who smiled back and leaned closer, ever so careful to keep her eyes locked on Sara’s as she licked the dough off her finger. They kissed, tasting chocolate and sugary cookies. They kissed until the clock on the oven dinged, until they were wrapped around each other and the oven was no longer the only thing heating up the kitchen. 

But the cookies were hot and delicious and because they couldn’t wait, they blew on them and sat down on the kitchen floor with more wine and cookies and watched as the next sheet baked. 

Sofia was sure they tasted the way they were supposed to taste, the way they had tasted years ago, when she’d been little and allowed to sit on the counter and watch as her grandmother baked. 

She leaned against Sara, resting her head on the brunette’s shoulder.

“I think we get an A in The Science of Cookies,” she grinned.

“Does that mean we’re moving on to cakes now?”

“Next week, honey. Next week.”


End file.
